To Beat Your Game
by vintagedoxy
Summary: [Fu:Tez] One shot. Drowning in the insanity of Fuji’s sudden change of heart, Tezuka has to comprehend the feelings that he had long ago discarded. Could he admit to himself that tennis was not the only game of life that he enjoyed?


**Title: **To Beat your Game  
**Author: **Rachel Elizabeth  
**Email: **ceramicprincess (at) fanfiction (dot) net  
**Status: **One-shot  
**Genre: **Romance/Drama/Smut  
**Rating: **R (the lemon is located at under my username "tornempathy")  
**Warning: **There really isn't a plot . . . so if you're looking for one—please look elsewhere. Mostly, this is fluffiness abounding and some plot, but rarely. Yaoi, lime content.  
**Summary: **(Fuji/Tezuka)Drowning in the insanity of Fuji's sudden change of heart, Tezuka has to comprehend the feelings that he had long ago discarded. Could he admit to himself that tennis was not the only game of life that he enjoyed?  
**Proviso:** Oh, to own the boys . . . Smut would abound. Sadly enough, however, I do not own them  
**Author's Comments: **I'm addicted, unadulterated, and nothing can stop me now. I also would like to make a comment now that I really don't know that much about tennis, so if my game-playing is wrong, I apologize in advance. I tried to keep it as close to the original Japanese as possible. The song that proceeds is a Bjork song entitled, "Come to Me", which has no real meaning, it just goes along with the story well.  
**Feedback: **It would be greatly appreciated. And please be kind; this is my first yaoi fiction.**  
Dedication:**To my roommate, Anna, who said that, "Lemons make the world go 'round". And ain't that the truth? Well, okay, that, and _she_ got me addicted to this damn series.

_

* * *

_

_Jump off  
Your building's on fire  
And I'll catch you, I'll catch you  
Destroy all that is keeping you back  
And then I'll nurse you,  
I'll nurse you,  
I'll touch you . . . _

One ball, two balls. He wasn't doing this on purpose, was he? Fuji Syusuke watched his buchou run towards the left of the court to catch his ball. He missed.

"Forty-fifteen."

Someone in the crowd called, "Match point! _Amazing,_ Fuji-senpai."

Fuji wasn't so sure; though he had the buchou cornered against the wall, Fuji knew that _that_ was when Tezuka played his best. Fuji's smile, however, had not shifted from its place as he watched Tezuka become friendlier with the ball.

"Game set, five games to four. Switch courts, Tezuka to serve."

The game was excruciating, if the buchou had been holding back before, he certainly wasn't anymore. Horio bit back a gasp as a ball went flying by his Fuji-senpai's head. Echizen looked at him, bored with the game and checking the time—fifteen minutes to go and practice would be over.

"Bored already, Echizen?"

"Nn." Ryouma didn't bother answering Momo-chan. He knew too well where that would lead; no where.

"Game set—Tezuka win, six games to five."

Back at the club house, Fuji was still smiling deeply, looking at Tezuka. "Tezuka did that on purpose." Tezuka, however, merely shrugged, but did not look at his friend. Fuji knew better, really, so the point in asking his friend was none. Tezuka did as he wished without listening to anyone, it had always been that way, it would always be that way. Even when it came to relationships with Tezuka he did not seem to appreciate companionship as much as many guys. True, he had a cult following of girls that followed him wherever he went, but he paid them little heed.

It seemed that recently, Fuji had stopped considering Tezuka—no, Kunimitsu—as a buchou, as a friend, but more as a male. A very attractive male that could have anyone he so desired and the fact that he did not desire anyone made the game more interesting to Fuji. He had always secretly admired Tezuka, the stern face, the face that was so unreadable. Even when Fuji had first arrived at Seigaku with Tezuka, he had chased after him with fortitude for a relationship only to be struck down by the knowledge that the only thing that Tezuka would ever love . . . was tennis. However, after playing tennis with his buchou today on the courts Fuji realized that the feeling of desire he had had as a freshman had not yet dissipated. Instead, in its place, was the knowledge of Tezuka the man, unlike when he had been a freshman; it was not simple adoration for a tennis player. It was pure lusting after Tezuka Kunimitsu—_the man._

Fuji had rarely ever harped on the issue, knowing that it would incense his buchou. _His buchou._ Well, that was certainly interesting enough.

Tezuka rarely paid enough attention to his teammates but when Fuji _stopped_ smiling Tezuka stopped, and looked at him. As soon as Fuji saw that someone was observing him, his dead-pan face was recovered with a smile that would have melted icicles. Tezuka briefly wondered at his friend; Fuji rarely ever did anything but smile and when he wasn't smile it was because he had locked onto a prey. Tezuka shuddered.

"Ne, Tezuka, walk home with me?" the two companions silently walked out of the club house, content with their company. _It's time for something different, Kunimitsu. The same routine won't work with me; I am not some simpering freshman anymore. I am a man . . . worthy of you._

The battle had begun.

Tezuka noticed the change perceptibly in Fuji, even if others did not, but since their game yesterday something had shifted blatantly between the two friends. Even in class, Fuji seemed to be ignoring Tezuka completely, supposedly only aware of the sensei's mind-numbing ramblings. Tezuka sat right in front of Fuji; it wasn't as though he didn't know that Fuji tended to stare out the window or focus his attention on anything other _than_ the sensei. Then he felt it, as he had leaned over his desk to become more involved with the paper in front of him he felt a light finger on his lower back. When he had leaned over, his shirt had unintentionally come up to reveal a small piece of his lower back and Fuji had taken his index finger and lightly run it across there. It was just the briefest of touch, light as a feather.

Instead of ignoring it as most would have done, Tezuka took his hand and grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it down over his exposed skin. Thinking that he had effectively stopped whatever Fuji thought that he was doing, Tezuka growled low in his throat because it was damn distracting, and he happened to _like_ this class. So, instead of trying to win a completely pointless fight, Tezuka merely took his hand away from his back and brought his back up straight; he was not going to let Fuji know how that little action had bothered him.

Fuji grinned harder at the back of Tezuka's neck, amused at the way Tezuka was playing with him. Well, he certainly hadn't expected his buchou to give in so utterly, but it made things more . . . interesting. Fuji decided that if Tezuka wanted to play as though he felt nothing, he could play that game, also. Not deterred from his path by a mere shirt, Fuji once again brought his hand over his desk to run along the edges of Tezuka's pants, under his shirt. Now _that_ was an interesting response; instead of holding his own ground, Fuji heard the almost unrecognizable purr in the back of Tezuka's throat that threatened to expose him for the liar that he was. Encouraged, Fuji merely leaned towards his buchou more fully and traced a light path along his lower back.

Madness; it was complete and utter madness, this feeling that he could do nothing against Fuji's experimenting hands. They had learned too quickly the erogenous points on Tezuka's body. It had taken merely half of the class period and Fuji practically knew all the erogenous spots on the whole of his back. _Traitor!_ Tezuka yelled at his body. He would _not_ get entrapped in one of Fuji's little games. When Fuji's hand went down Tezuka's back too far, Tezuka stood up abruptly and the class stopped and cast a curious glance over to him. "Sensei, I can't see the board."

"Tezuka, please return to your seat," the sensei had little patience for Tezuka's outburst. Tezuka groaned in his throat, thinking that he needed to find some way to stop Fuji's wandering hands. When he sat back down he could hear the light chuckle behind him, reminding him that the game had just started. "Tezuka-buchou, it is _I _who can not see the board."

Tezuka growled in his throat, wondering why Fuji's hand games had abruptly stopped. Thinking that he could distract his friend, Tezuka spoke low in his throat, "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Well, because, frankly, it is more fun to observe the little hairs on the back of your neck when I touch you . . . like this," and with those words Fuji's hand had once again reached down to Tezuka's lower back and were tracing a path under his shirt.

"Fuji," he growled out a warning, though it seemed to help little. Trying to help his friend out—and he—if Tezuka would ever admit that, he moved his head to the left so that the board could be seen in back of him by Fuji.

"Sorry, but that doesn't help," Fuji muttered, laughter bubbling up despite his best attempts to quash them.

Gritting his teeth, Tezuka leaned, instead, to his right, thinking that perhaps _then_ he could see the board. He heard a small "nope" in back of him and he sank his teeth together, trying to keep from shouting. Finally, a thought occurred to him, Tezuka leaned his head down over his desk and thought that there was no _way_ that Fuji couldn't see _over_ him. He heard a quiet, "thank you" behind him and before he knew it, that hand had come back into play. However, this time it was not just one finger, oh no, instead, Fuji had taken all of his fingers and was lightly scratching at Tezuka's lower back. That had been his game all along!

When the class finally, _finally_ ended, Tezuka rushed out of the classroom, only to find that Fuji was still next to him and still grinning like a Cheshire cat. Tezuka thought inwardly that he was glad that it was time for tennis practice so that he could pay back Fuji in laps. Due to Tezuka's bad mood, tennis practice was not looking good for the Regulars. However, even as Tezuka's thoughts ran over what he was going to have the Regular's do, his plans seemed to become disrupted by Fuji who was next to him in the club house, changing. All Fuji had done was take off his shirt to change into a more appropriate shirt for practicing and Tezuka could feel himself becoming interested. Tezuka resolutely glanced away from Fuji.

Fuji laughed inwardly, amused that Tezuka thought that he could look away from him and all of his hormones could become miraculously in check. _Silly buchou_. Fuji made sure that he turned towards Tezuka as he slowly slid his uniform pants down his legs, and Tezuka saw him, if not right in front of him, but enough in his peripheral vision that he visibly swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Thank Kami for the shorts that he wore religiously under his uniform.

"Excuse me," Fuji mumbled, right behind Tezuka now, leaning forward, his bare chest pressed against Tezuka's back. Tezuka closed his eyes; just what did the _tensai _think he was doing? Before Tezuka could utter anything against what Fuji thought he was doing, he had gone back to his spot on the bench with his shirt now in his hands.

Tezuka growled; he had had enough of Fuji's little . . . game. Whatever he thought he was doing it was not going to work against him because he had seen it all before and had experienced it all before. He knew all the games that people liked to play with him. However, even as he thought that he realized that with Fuji it was something entirely different. He had known all throughout junior high school that Fuji had been admiring him; he just never thought that the _tensai_ would go so far as to try and—seduce him.

At practice, it was true that Tezuka worked the Regular's harder than he normally did but that was only because of the frustration that he felt deep within his stomach. He still had not figured out what Fuji had thought he was doing today in class and Tezuka was also sure that he _wasn't_ sure that he actually wanted to know. Whatever had sparked this bout of interest in him would soon pass; it always did. Hearing the Regular's complain only fueled the fire in his anger and he felt no pity for them whatsoever. When it was finally five o'clock, Oishi decided that it was time to ask Tezuka to let the others leave. Tezuka only glared angrily at Oishi, but reluctantly let them go. After everyone had gone, Tezuka marveled at the silence that invaded the club house and decided that taking a shower was _just_ the thing he needed before he went home to eat. Tezuka was always the last to leave the club house; no one ever stayed past the time that they had to. _Silence is golden._

Tezuka silently removed his jersey and pants and grabbed a towel from his cubby. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Tezuka walked into the showers, humming softly to himself, amused that he was in such good spirits. Perhaps seeing other's pain was a good stimulate for him, perhaps Nietzsche hadn't been wrong. Tezuka let the water run a little while to acquire the right temperature before he discarded the towel and stepped under the water.

"Tezuka-buchou, shouldn't you be at home, eating? It's late, even for you." Tezuka started at the voice, but realized that it was only Fuji, grabbing his towel, Tezuka hid behind the towel though it was now drenched with water. Fuji only curiously cocked his head to the side to watch the stoic buchou try to hide his embarrassment.

"What are you still doing here, Fuji?" Tezuka asked sharply, aware that he was making an idiot out of himself.

"Ryuzaki-sensei asked me to stay after to practice on some things. You were there yesterday when she requested this . . . have you forgotten so easily?" Fuji asked, curious. It wasn't like Tezuka to _not_ be in tune with everything that was going on around him, especially with his fellow teammates. Interesting.

Tezuka, however, did not choose to comment on this observation, knowing that he would only end up being the butt of one of Fuji's jokes. Instead, Tezuka bravely turned his back towards Fuji and dropped the towel again, thinking that the conversation was over. He should have known that nothing with Fuji was ever over until he said so; it was just the way that the tensai worked.

Instead of taking action and doing anything, however, Tezuka just watched as Fuji continued to take his shower, never taking his eyes away from the side of Tezuka's face. Something was definitely going on around him and Tezuka didn't like to be the one that had no knowledge of it. Fuji slowly walked towards Tezuka, his head cocked again to the side, confused as to what could have caused such an expression on Tezuka's face. "Tezuka, is something wrong?" Fuji lightly grabbed Tezuka's shoulder, trying to be comforting. Tezuka jerkily wrenched out of his grasp, gasping at the contact of a cold hand on his hot skin. "Tezuka?"

"Fuji, just—stop touching me!" he yelled angrily at his friend, unsure where that comment had even come from. It was always Fuji that seemed to give Tezuka the most physical support in any decision that he made

"Hai, Tezuka, gomen, gomen." However, Fuji had not removed his hand; instead he had stepped closer to Tezuka, aware that the buchou was holding onto his sanity by a thin thread. When Fuji moved closer to Tezuka, however, Tezuka moved back and soon he was plastered against the wall of the shower.

"Fuji—" Tezuka started, only to be met by inquisitive eyes.

"Hai, Tezuka? Perhaps you have had too much pressure on you lately." And before the buchou could resist Fuji had lightly brought his palm across Tezuka's chest and sighed, and walked back to his own shower. When Fuji went back to his own shower, Tezuka turned towards the water, letting it run down his face and arms, trying to wash away all the thoughts of he and Fuji in . . . compromising situations. The minx knew exactly what he was doing. However, Tezuka would not let him win so easily.

The days after the episode in the shower, Tezuka had noticed that the 'innocent' touches were steadily increasing. It was not just a small touch here or there, either, oh no. Whenever Fuji got the chance he made sure that his thigh, or his arms were leaning on Tezuka's own thighs and arms. He was also not giving up the small of Tezuka's back in class, either, for that seemed to get the most attention out of any part of his body and Tezuka found himself actually _anticipating_ the touching. Finally, one day he had come to class early and had asked to be moved only to find that Fuji had just smiled at him from the other side of the room. Nothing seemed to be deterring the resilient tensai and that day, the one day that Tezuka had removed himself from temptation, he found that he could not focus on class without the soft touch of his friend; it was almost as though it were bringing comfort to him.

The day after, not uttering a word, Tezuka just quietly sat back in his own chair, and resolved that he would not let Fuji see that he had missed being near him. Fuji was like water, almost, to Tezuka because without the silent touches and the glances that he gave, Tezuka _felt_ as though something important were missing in his life. Fuji only chuckled quietly behind Tezuka when he returned to his normal seat, only receiving a glare for the light laugh. Things had even become so bad that during tennis practice, Fuji was still consistently by his side, but on a few rare occasions he had felt Fuji lightly run his hand on his favorite place on the small of Tezuka's back.

Tezuka knew he _knew_ that he was not going to submit to something as debasing as what Fuji thought could entice him. After all, he was Tezuka Kunimitsu, a renowned tennis player and the most unreadable person on the face of the earth. Or so everyone but Fuji thought, for Tezuka briefly wondered if he had been deceiving himself and that Fuji actually knew what was going on in his mind. Some days Tezuka had to wonder and this was one of those days.

With Tezuka's silent indignation it seemed that Fuji had grown more and more bold, trying to entice Tezuka to the point of complete and utter madness. Madness could be such a beautiful thing, hadn't someone said that to Fuji before? He couldn't remember. In class that day, feeling particularly bored with the assignment, Fuji resumed his normal foreplay with Tezuka's back, thinking that he had the most diabolical muscles that any human had ever seen. _Sexy. _However, unlike most days, he heard a small intake of breath that was definitely _not_ taken by Tezuka and he looked up. Oishi was looking at Fuji's hand that was rubbing his favorite spot on Tezuka's back, unaware that such a relationship had developed. Fuji only smiled benignly, thankful that Tezuka had not heard the little gasp. Oishi, however, knew when to keep his business out of someone else's and Fuji didn't worry that Oishi would bring it up with Tezuka. Besides, it was palpably obvious that Eiji and Oishi had had something going that neither of them wanted anyone to know about, even though Oishi _knew_ that Fuji had deducted enough to suspicion.

The problem with someone catching them, however, was that at the gasp, Fuji had been slightly deterred from his original path and his hand had slipped father down into Tezuka's pants and his index finger had slipped into Tezuka's split. Before Fuji had a chance to even move his hand, however, Tezuka had groaned loudly, a few eyes being cast over in their general direction. Fuji removed his hand quickly as the sensei walked over to Tezuka, displeased at his display, but he said nothing, he just asked if everything was alright. "Hai, sensei. Shitsureishimasu."

Fuji, in his stead, had only raised a delicate eyebrow at the sound that had come from Tezuka's throat and thought that _that_ was _most_ interesting. He would have to experiment on that a little mor—

"You will _not_ do that again, Fuji," Tezuka stated firmly, just barely hissing it out from underneath his breath. Fuji didn't say anything to that comment, though. Tezuka didn't know if it was because he was ignoring him completely or because he, too, knew that to do _that_ again could only mean trouble.

However, the little touches that Fuji normally stroked only became more and more blatant from that day. Tezuka would go home after having run the tennis team to the hilt of their endurance, call them off and after _everyone, _including Fuji, had left Tezuka would take a short shower in the club house before heading home to eat the meal that was always cold when he arrived. Many things seemed to be cold in his life lately, he would take cold showers, he'd eat cold food, and he would receive cold glances from his teammates. It all seemed so very parallel to everything in his life. He would run a few laps after everyone was gone to work off the inevitable lust that Fuji had gotten him in to, then he would take a freezing shower and go home only to find that the meal of the night was cold. So what was the reoccurring theme here? _Cold as ice, _Tezuka thought, only admitting to himself that he was actually talking about . . . his heart.

On one particular day when Fuji had found himself 'accidentally' teamed up with the chibi himself, Tezuka only briefly glanced at the pair, thinking that the exercise could only do both of them good. After thirty minutes of play, the game tied at one-one, Tezuka wasn't so sure that this had been such a good idea and not for the chibi's sake, but for his own. Tezuka had forgotten how fierce Fuji looked when he played in tennis and how the only other time he saw that look was when he was looking at something he wanted, like Tezuka himself. The look in his eyes brought to memory all the stolen touches that Fuji had taken lately and the time in class when his hand had accidentally—was it an accident? He had sure taken his hand fast enough away to make Tezuka _think _it was—touched Tezuka a little too far. Tezuka could feel himself becoming hot under the collar at the look that Fuji was giving to Echizen and he thought briefly of stopping the match, of telling Echizen that that look was _reserved ._Tezuka looked away from the pair, angry at himself. The jealousy that Tezuka felt deep within his gut did not subside, however.

"Game set, two games to one, switch courts, Echizen to serve." And as they switched courts Fuji glanced over at Tezuka only to be amused by the look that was residing on his face. Fuji did not think that he had ever seen Tezuka that mad before in his life and it seemed to be directed at—him. Fuji watched as Tezuka glanced away from him just in time to watch Echizen walk by him and Fuji understood. Whether or not Tezuka was ready to admit anything, he could wait, but the knowledge of Tezuka's bad mood put Fuji in an especially _good_ mood.

Later, when games had been played and practice had run its course, the players were still lingering, wondering what had put Tezuka in such a foul mood. None of them had ever seen Tezuka as angry as he had been that day. Sure, he was a hard person to read, but they knew that in that stoic glance that he cared about each and every one of them, so the attitude that accompanied him today was quite a surprise. Fuji spoke up first on this, "Perhaps he has not had a good couple of weeks. We remember how he was before we went to play Hyotei."

All the players except Echizen nodded and left quietly, too disturbed to do the pointless; talk. Echizen was the last to leave, he stayed behind and looked at Fuji, and Fuji still had that indestructible smile on his face, Echizen shrugged and walked out of the club house.

"_Hyotei_?" Tezuka asked incredulously, backing Fuji into the wall murderously.

Fuji smiled. "For them, it was a good enough explanation."

"I ought to run you to the ground tomorrow," Tezuka warned, his hands placed strategically next to either side of Fuji's head on the wall.

"Should you?"

Tezuka hated the smile that Fuji put on his face, the ever complacent smile that could tell nothing and see everything. "You _saw_, you knew why I was mad, but you won't ever say anything, will you Syusuke?" Fuji's eyes opened on his first name and he nodded slightly, aware of the hormonal aura that surrounded Tezuka. "I will _not_ be jealous of a first-year, _even_ at your instigation." Fuji smiled again, aware that the buchou was talking more to himself. "I _ought_ to run you to the ground, you and your damnable hands—"

Those same hands were now tucked nicely next to Fuji; Tezuka hadn't even realized that he had trapped Fuji so entirely against the wall. His friend could barely breathe, yet Fuji hadn't said anything. The look in his eyes that he could do this for hours, Tezuka _hated_ that. He hated thinking that he could be out bested by someone by their _hands._ Tezuka stared at Fuji in the eyes, unable to think of what he had been trying to articulate to him. It was something about . . . hands and Hyotei. Hyotei? Tezuka grabbed Fuji's hands and placed them on his lower back, under his shirt. "_There_, isn't that your favorite spot, Syusuke?" Tezuka bit out at him, needing the contact but not wanting to admit it. Fuji only laid his head back on the wall and rubbed gently, in the most soothing way that he knew how and Tezuka purred low in his throat.

Fuji knew that the game with Echizen had put a huge strain on Tezuka today, for what Tezuka had never realized about himself was that even if he never said it when he claimed something or _someone_ to see them with someone else, even if it was just a look that should only be meant for him, Tezuka would lose it. That was how Tezuka worked and that was why Fuji Syusuke loved that man. Fuji Syusuke loved Tezuka Kunimitsu and that was all there was to it, "Hai, Kunimitsu." The name was sweet on his lips.

Tezuka decided that if drowning in insanity was going to be with Syusuke, he would drown forever. He would drown and _drown_ if need be, if Syusuke was there. Tezuka slammed his lips onto Fuji's and demanded of him, "Me, only me," and somewhere in the lunacy he murmured, "drown with me, Syusuke."

Fuji didn't pretend to not understand what he was saying, "Hai, Kunimitsu."

Both men stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to continue.

"Kunimitsu?"

Tezuka groaned at his name, unsure of the implications of a first-name basis. "Hai," but who was he to ask any questions? The minx had been bothering him all week and hadn't he finally given in to the madness?

"Remember when my hand . . . slipped?" Fuji asked, slightly amused at the way that Tezuka was trying _so hard_ to be dominating, but at the mere mention of the slip of his hand Tezuka had shifted his eyes to Fuji's hands and had started relaxing his grip.

"I do not like the connotation of the pause in that sentence."

"Let's try it again, Kunimitsu, hm?" before Tezuka could even think to protest Fuji had slipped his hand around Tezuka's waist.

And finally Tezuka realized that for the first time tennis was not the only game in life that he enjoyed, because he took pleasure in his game with Fuji Syusuke a great deal more. It was the drowning game of madness.

**Owari**

_Dictionary of terms_

tensai – genius / buchou – captain / buchou no baka – captain is foolish / Shitsureishimasu – formal apology / Amazing – awesome

Thank you for sitting through my drabble.


End file.
